As the World Falls Down
by The Emcee
Summary: What's going through Attinger's mind as he watches Savoy fall to his death? Attinger/Savoy. One shot.


Title: As the World Falls Down

Author: The Emcee

Summary: What's going through Attinger's mind as he watches Savoy fall to his death?

Disclaimer: I own nothing

A/N: After watching AoE and seeing Attinger's reaction to Savoy's death, I couldn't help but think, 'hey, somethin' was going on between them…'. Why else would be act that way, even if they were just friends? After all, this was a man who had no qualms about killing Tessa, so for Savoy's death to affect him as it did…they had to have been more than friends. So, I wrote this little drabble thing. The title was taken from the _Labyrinth_ song of the same name, _As the World Falls Down_. It's a good song so go listen to it! Let me know what you think! R&R. Enjoy!

**~…~**

**As the World Falls Down**

**~…~**

Everybody dies. Harold knows this. He knows it all too well. Everybody dies, even alien metal from another planet far away. He himself had been the cause of many human lives lost. All for a good cause.

All for **the** cause.

All to make their world a safer place for all of them.

All to protect human lives and freedom.

But there was something he had expected or anticipated. Not like this, at least. Not now. Not right before his very eyes.

James Savoy, his right hand man for all intents and purposes, the man he had placed in charge of his Cemetery Wind, his partner in every sense of the word, was falling, falling many stories down. He had been after Yeager, a nobody garage inventor from Texas who couldn't even handle a steady paying job, and he had been pushed out of a window. Yeager had to have pushed him because Savoy was not one to lose his footing or stumble accidently. No, he was too good for that, too precise, too well trained. And he wouldn't have tripped his way out of a window. No, he was pushed and Yeager was the man who pushed him.

His fall had been short, too short for a man like James Savoy. It lasted a couple seconds, maybe, but in those couple of seconds, Harold watched his entire world fall down.

This…this was no supposed to happen. If James was going to die on this mission, it would have been while hunting the transformers or perhaps even by Lockdown's own hand but not by a garage inventor like Yeager. Not by a man who had betrayed his own flesh and blood brethren for alien metal. Falling to his death was not like James; it was not a death suitable for him, not at all.

Stabbed to death, yes. Shot, yes. Blown up or apart or incinerated, yes. Push out of a damn window? No. No, no, no, no!

Harold could hardly breathe while he watched James fall. It took not time at all and yet, time seemed to slow down as well. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't even cry out. His heart hammered in his chest, but he couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear anything except James' cry as he fell. And then, the sickening crack and thud as he hit the hard ground, ending his life.

And suddenly, Harold's paralyzed. He can't feel anything and he doesn't want to. James was gone, dead, and there was nothing Harold could have done to prevent his death. They had been in this together. If there was anyone Harold had trusted to handle this entire operation, it was James. Aside from that though, aside from the business of it, James had been the only person Harold trusted.

Above anyone else, Harold knew that James had his back. That much had been proven time and time again even before the creation of Cemetery Wind. James had been there for every victory and every defeat, taking both Harold's cruel words of abuse and his rarely given praise whenever something went right. On the nights when they would drink at their achievements, for getting one step closer to Prime, James would go to Harold's bed willing and spend hours there, reveling in the slow build that they alone could make together. And on nights when their prey would escape them, James would take Harold's harsh thrusts and angry, frustrated growls with a grain of salt, rarely retorting or speaking, knowing that words would not help or work.

While James matched Harold in word play both on the field and off, both friendly and angry, that didn't mean that he wasn't loyal. He had been loyal and patriotic and faithful to their work, to their cause, the one that they both shared, together. Even when Joshua hadn't given them their due payment for all of their hard work and sacrifice, James had still stuck around and was willing to do Harold's dirty work without a moment's hesitation.

But he was gone now. His days had been numbers, always had been, just like everyone else's on the planet. And it was only a matter of time before Harold met his own due. Would that really be so bad? He and James had shared everything together over the years. Would dying on the same day be that bad?

No, it wouldn't, but Harold had a job to do and he couldn't dwell on James' death. Not right now, not when there was still work to be done. Not when Prime was still out there, not when Yeager was still out there, not when Joshua hadn't forked over his share for all of the work contributed to their cause. It would be shameful and insult to James to not fulfill their mission and finish the job.

However, that didn't mean that Harold couldn't take a moment to collect himself, to mourn for the loss of his James Savoy. His breath was coming in and out rapidly as he tried to calm and collect himself, to gather his focus on what still needed to be done.

And then, his communicator beeped. Lockdown was hailing him.

Harold pushed his feelings to the side as he answered the call. He couldn't push James' death away, however, and as he spoke to Lockdown, he planned on how much he was going to savor killing Cade Yeager.


End file.
